


linger near the door

by Digitalis_Obscura



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Can Be Read As Romantic, Gen, and instead they bond, set in some ambiguous universe where Michael is not trying to murder Jon, this is the fluffiest thing ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digitalis_Obscura/pseuds/Digitalis_Obscura
Summary: In another life, Michael wants to remember how to be a little more human.
Relationships: Michael & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44
Collections: Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2019





	linger near the door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shella688](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shella688/gifts).



> This is silly and fluffy and i really hope you like it because its something ive always wanted to write (i had a preliminary version of the first part of this in my wips for months and then i saw the prompt and knew it was perfect.)

“Archivist, what is ice cream?” 

Jon doesn’t scream, but only because he’s certain his heart just stopped. He still isn't used to the way Michael just appears in his home whenever they please, materializing from doors that had not existed moments before with no warning. 

He doesn’t scream, but he does inhale a lungful of water through his nose, and then he’s spluttering and trying to find the knob to turn the spray off with his sinuses burning.

He barely has a second to consider his state of undress, shampoo sliding down his nose in foamy blobs from his half-rinsed head, before Michael pulls back the curtain and leans in. 

“What is ice cream?” They don’t seem to be concerned by his grimace, nor do they seem phased by the lack of clothing. Jon, on the other hand, is supremely uncomfortable.

“We have talked about this. You can’t interrupt my showers whenever you please just because you have another question. Surely it could have waited?” Jon sounds petulant and he knows it, but can’t really bring himself to care, given that he is now cold and damp and only half showered, with an astoundingly unhelpful monster in his personal space.

Michael entirely fails to look apologetic and Jon sighs as he brushes past them to fetch a towel, shuddering at the unpleasant jolt he gets from touching them. They continue to watch him patiently, never looking away as he dries off and dresses, and at this point he’s so used to it that its barely uncomfortable anymore.

The first time Michael had interrupted his shower with a question about humanity, he had been terrified. That had been several months ago and he is coming to realize that Michael doesn’t intend to harm him, would rather pepper him with inane questions about things they only vaguely remember from Michael Shelley’s fading memories. 

That first time it had been reality tv. Since then, they have asked about popular movies, roller skating, and once, memorably, dating. Jon does his best to answer, and Michael seems to think of him as an encyclopedia of all things humanity, which Jon finds bitterly funny.

They repeat their question again, more forcefully, when Jon finishes dressing.

“It's a desert, like sweet frozen milk. It comes in a lot of different flavors. I like strawberry.” He isn’t sure why he says the last part, but Michael doesn’t seem to care, looking faintly pensive.

“I think I would like to try some. Where do you get ice cream?” 

“Uh… a shop usually, but I think I have some here.” He’s sure he has some, actually, but he doesn’t know where that knowledge came from, given that he hasn’t been in his refrigerator in weeks. Still, he finds the ice cream exactly where he thought it would be, on the freezer door, and puts some in a bowl, handing it to Michael where they stand close behind him, watching with fascination.

They take the bowl, and then stare blankly at it. Realizing the problem, Jon gets them a spoon, and then it’s his turn to watch as Michael carefully eats the ice cream, deceptively human fingers holding the spoon awkwardly. He sits down in the only chair at his table and Michael sits on the counter eating ice cream and the silence between them is soft and easy in a way it rarely is.


End file.
